OT3 Drabbles: Starlit Skies (Thranduil x Jane Foster x Loki)
by ToryTigress92
Summary: Jane thought having the God of Thunder for a lover was a handful. Little does she realise what's in store, as an Elven-King and a mad Trickster vie for her affections. A series of drabbles relating to one bonkers, but fun, OT3. Some will be romance, some tragedy, and some comedic as the muse takes me. Ratings from T-M.
1. Generosity

Lokane/Janduil Prompt#1: Generosity for lianaslane

 _Prompt: Thranduil gives Jane a gift and Loki is not pleased by that._

 **Author's note: There's no real chronological order to these drabbles. Some will be purely Lokane, some purely Janduil, others a mix of the two, and some will be Lokanduil (LokixJanexThranduil).**

 **Warnings: Light sensuality.**

* * *

The necklace of rubies around her neck burned like fire in the light of the candles. In their depths, they were ever-shifting, morphing effortlessly from one shade to another, from the red of autumn leaves crushed underfoot to the liquid flames of the sun at twilight, and then to the deep, dark red of blood. It sat only lightly on her neck, tight but not uncomfortable against her skin, the cold metal warmed by the pounding of blood through her veins, perfectly showcased by the low neckline of her gown.

Jane wasn't sure the choker, while absolutely beautiful, was entirely appropriate for a simple guest of the Elvenking. When he had presented it to her, it was only slow thinking on Jane, that and pure shock, that had stopped her from coming up with an excuse to refuse the gift. If the stares she was getting were any indication, she wasn't the only one who was shocked by the Elvenking's generosity.

Said Elvenking was sat at her side, in a high set chair, intricately carved with antler motifs. Jane privately wondered what was with all the antler motifs and decorations around the Elvenking's palace. _Compensating for something maybe?_

* * *

Jane smiled at the thought. Beside her, Thranduil watched her attentively, intrigued by her smile. In the months of their acquaintance since he had secured the All-Father's permission for Jane to prolong her visit, he had often watched that slow, wry smile stretch her lips and wondered what lay behind it. Was it amusement? Mockery? Or did imaginings of a more pleasant nature sometimes tempt her attention away from the waking world?

It had been some months before Thranduil could admit, either to himself or to others such as his son, that he possessed an interest in the fragile but steely little mortal woman. She was as lovely as a flower in the Spring, but filled with all the burning tempestuousness of a fire-drake. She possessed all the curiosity of an elfling, yet had a wisdom and maturity despite her youth that made her seem so much older than her mere thirty solar years. Their many conversations together had tempted and teased, rather than sated, his desire to know her more. And another desire licked at the edges of their interaction, he was certain of it. She was as drawn to him as he was to her…

* * *

"What, pray tell, is making my Lady smile?" he asked quietly. Jane jumped slightly, glancing up at him with her doe-ish eyes wide and surprised. Truly, she had been far in mind from the feast, meant to welcome the return of both Thor and the All-Father to their halls.

"Oh." She paused, clearly reluctant to speak her mind for once, before her smile returned. "I was just wondering, Your Majesty, about the decor. Why all the antlers?"

Thranduil smiled to himself. "The antlers are a symbol. The proud Elk and the noble Stag, and their kindred, are symbols of my line and my house," he explained.

"Ah," Jane nodded. Again, that bewitching smile.

"Why is it that I sense there is more to your thought than you wish to tell, Lady Jane?" he asked, a slight teasing tone to his stern voice, as Jane smirked.

"There may be," she admitted. "But that would be telling."

"I am a King. Surely my commands are enough?" Thranduil retorted, deliberately invoking her defiant spirit, watching as it sparked in her eyes as she replied.

"Wild horses couldn't drag it from me, so I doubt you could," she stated archly, making Thranduil chuckle. Clear as a bell, the sound reverberated through the feasting hall, making all pause in their conversation to take in the sight of the mighty Elvenking and the diminutive mortal woman, clad in flowing red silks and the King's gift, conversing so intimately.

Too intimately for some guests' liking. Jane felt a familiar gaze on her, and inwardly shivered, but refused to do anything else but ignore it, her attention taken up by the powerful and challenging man beside her. "It's a secret I will take to my grave," she continued, as Thranduil's laughter lessened, and he reached for her hand.

Almost against her will, Jane's lungs tightened and her dress felt far too tight. Her body was as taut as a bowstring, and she swallowed hard, conscious of the gazes of all on them both, but most especially of one, sat not far away, his single fierce eye glaring in disapproval, and if she didn't know better, jealousy.

Uncaring and unaware of any disapproval, either from his guests or his subjects, Thranduil snared Jane's hand and lifted it to his lips. He pressed a courtly kiss to her hand, while beneath where his fingers held her wrist, he trailed a subtle caress across the inner face. He felt her tremble with satisfaction as he replied, low and intimate, "That day, I pray, is a long time off yet."

* * *

Later that evening, Jane escaped Thranduil and his unnerving presence to the blessedly empty and dimly lit corridor outside the feasting hall. Once again, her fingers drifted across the hard stones of his gift to her, and she felt her mind slip away, down into remembered sensations of hard lips against her skin, and long fingers caressing the thudding point of her pulse on her wrist.

"That is a very beautiful necklace, my Lady. Who gave it you?" a familiar, and vehemently disliked, voice demanded commandingly. Jane stiffened and spun to find the All-Father watching her from the shadows of the archway to the feasting hall, his single eye all but blazing. His piercing gaze made her just as uncomfortable as Thranduil's heated eyes, and she fought the urge to fidget like a child caught doing something naughty.

"King Thranduil. He learned that it was my birthday today, or would have been back on Earth, and gave it to me as a gift," she explained coolly, refusing to lose her composure in front of Thor's father. Since their mutual agreement to be just friends, she had hoped that his father might be less disapproving now she was no longer a threat to his plans for Thor and Sif, but he looked on her often with either disapproval or disdain. When he was around, that is. This was the first time she'd seen him since she and Thor left Asgard to come to Middle-Earth.

"How…generous," the All-Father drawled. For a moment, memories of a pale, dark-haired trickster intruded and Jane mentally flinched. So often, she saw more of Loki in Odin than she ever did in Thor, and she often thought of the reprobate God of Mischief. She knew his death still hung as a shadow over Thor, and she didn't like admitting it, but over her as well.

For days now, ever since her stay in Mirkwood had been lengthened indefinitely, she had been having dreams at night, some heated and so explicit Jane blushed to think of them, others cold and threatening, others almost warm and convival, full of conversations with a long-dead war criminal and psychopath. Jane didn't want to ponder how insane it made her that she dreamed of Loki, when he was dead, when he was responsible for so much evil, and yet a part of her was drawn to her host.

Reminded of it, and of the disapproval she'd felt all evening at their closeness, the All-Father's words made her bristle. "Yes, very generous. The King has been nothing but kind and welcoming to me. Unlike some I could mention," Jane replied pointedly, Dorwinion wine and pride making her reckless. With that, she turned on her heel and walked away but not before the All-Father's words made her pause, just for a moment.

"Thranduil has better taste than even I gave him credit for. A fiery gift for a woman made of fire," he called to her, almost tauntingly, with an edge of suggestion that Jane dismissed a moment later. She walked away without another word.

Loki watched her go, and he could see his words had affected her. He'd known allowing Jane to remain in Thranduil's care had been dangerous, but he had not found any excuse to refuse the Elf's request without arousing suspicion. What would the All-Father care about one insignificant little mortal?

He had contrived an excuse to visit after several months, and what he saw, he liked not one bit. The King and Jane were much closer than before, and his spies told him the King was much enamoured of her.

It seemed that despite the dream visits he had made to Jane, the dark encounters that had eventually given way to nightly conversations and the passionate interludes as the little astrophysicist gave in to her repressed desire for him, believing it safe in her dreams, Thranduil's hold over her was only strengthening.

 _I'll have to pay her another visit tonight then. Time to remind her who she belongs to…_

As Jane walked down the corridor to her rooms, she felt a ice cold breeze lift the curls of her hair, caressing the nape of her neck through Thranduil's gift, and shuddered. _Oh well, there goes any hope of a dreamless sleep tonight then…_ Jane sighed, even as her hand came up once more to drift across the result of Thranduil's generosity at her throat.


	2. Dinner For Three

Lokane/Janduil Prompt #2: Dinner For Three for iamartemisday

 _Prompt: What about a dinnertime scene? That always makes for good awkwardness…_

 ** _Warnings: implied past threesome, suggestive dialogue…I told you these prompts weren't in chronological order…_**

 ** _And yes, Tolkien's canon about Elves and sexuality has completely gone out the window here._**

* * *

Not for the first time in her life, Jane thought: _what the hell?_

Four years ago, she was a perfectly normal, insignificant astrophysicist working in the deserts of New Mexico. How the hell had she come to this?

Well that statement wasn't entirely true. She had never been normal, which was why she'd ended up in New Mexico to start with, she had never been insignificant if she was really honest with herself. She'd been the first to theorise about Einstein-Rosen bridges and interstellar travel, she'd been the first human Thor met when he was banished to Earth as a mortal, it been because of her that Thor had grown enough to regain his powers, and then it was because of her own scientific curiosity that she had been possessed by the Aether and then embroiled in a war alongside the two Aesir brothers, Loki and Thor. And it had been her own damned curiosity that had led to her meeting and falling in love with an immortal Elvenking, while simultaneously being seduced by and falling in love with a reprobate trickster in her dreams whom she'd long thought dead, until suddenly he wasn't and the discovery had had her running away, back home to Earth and normality and safety.

Until both of them had turned up on her doorstep in London and professed their undying devotion which had led to…

Jane had to admit that what followed, while certainly not _**normal**_ in the conventional sense of the word, had been absolutely mind-blowing and incredible. She still had hot flushes just thinking about it.

* * *

All of which had led to her present situation. Sitting at her kitchen table, with a former Elvenking and a former King of Asgard/resurrected trickster, eating Chinese and drinking red wine.

"I really need to find a hard surface to bang my head against it. Or pinch myself. Or a very _**big**_ glass of wine…"

It took a few seconds for Jane to realise she'd said all of that out loud. _Oops…_

A rather hard pinch on her arm proved it. "OW!" she snapped, glaring at the dark-haired trickster opposite her, smirking mischievously.

"Well, you did say you desired pinching, dearest," he drawled, his eyes twinkling. She heard the _clink_ of glass, then her refilled glass was pushed in front of her by Thranduil.

"And you asked for more wine, _meleth nin_. Although how you can bear this… _mockery_ your people call wine, I do not know…" he trailed off, as she glared at him.

"That sentence was perfect right up until the end," Jane retorted. "It might not be Dorwinion but beggars can't be choosers-"

"I may not know much about your people or your home yet, _meleth nin_ , but even I can see you are no beggar, so in truth you can choose," Thranduil interrupted her smoothly.

"That's not what-" Jane began, frowning, but Loki jumped in.

"Why do you want to hit your head repeatedly against a wall?" he cut in, and Jane stared at him.

"I believe I asked a question first, Loki…" Thranduil interjected pointedly, as Jane's head snapped to stare at him.

"No, you made a statement which required no response, therefore my question still remains. Jane, why do you want to hit your head repeatedly against a wall?" Loki retorted, while still smiling, seemingly pleasant and attentive, but with an edge of mischief and amusement to his smile that made Jane tense. Her neck was beginning to ache from all the back and forth.

"Then let me ask another: _meleth nin_ , whom do you prefer to make love with. Myself or Loki?" Thranduil's next question literally made her jaw drop. She would never have expected such a blatant question from him. Loki maybe, Thranduil? Never.

"The answer to that is obvious. You are far too delicate with your flouncey robes and your pretty eyebrows," Loki drawled.

"As opposed to what, princeling? Your so-called Silvertongue and…what did you call it, _meleth nin_? Inferiority complex?" Thranduil replied, as Jane's head snapped to and fro, like she was watching a tennis match.

"At least I need not use phallic symbols in my livery to over-compensate for my…er…less than impressive physical capabilities," Loki fired back.

"Lovemaking requires more skill than mere physical capability, a truth I am certain you have been forced to face all too often, Liesmith," Thranduil parried, and Jane finally lost it.

It really had been a weird few days, ok?

"ENOUGH!" she screamed, standing up at the table and staring disgustedly at the two supernatural beings before her. "I thought you two had got over this stupid rivalry thing last night!? Instead I've had to sit here and watch the pair of you bicker and argue over who's better in bed and whose….antlers are bigger for God's sake!"

Both of them looked momentarily chastened, stealing glances at one another. Jane suddenly felt like a kindergarten teacher with a pair of naughty toddlers.

"You're both supposed to be royalty, and you sit here, arguing over…over **_that_ ** and _**me**_ like I'm not even here! I am not some idiot airhead who's going to be flattered by that sort of thing and I am _**not**_ going to sit here and watch you two fight over something so incredibly stupid…you're both supposed to be _**advanced beings**_ for God's sake, start acting like it! Oh my God!" **  
**

"No, just me, dearest," Loki had the nerve to speak up, at which Jane rounded on him with flaming eyes and he sank back into his chair with both hands raised.

"If you're still wondering why I want to bang my head repeatedly against a wall, it's because of you two and how impossible you are!" Jane snapped, a final parting shot, before she picked up her glass, drained it in one swallow, and marched into the kitchen.

* * *

Silence descended in the dining area, and slowly two smiles spread across Loki and Thranduil's faces.

"She is rather beautiful when she's angered," the former Elvenking remarked quietly.

"Hmmm, intoxicating," Loki agreed. "Nice opening gambit with the lovemaking question. She'd never see it coming from you."

"Aye, she would not. She has a rather…innocent opinion of Elves and our attitudes towards lovemaking with our mates," Thranduil continued. "Impressive deduction about the antlers, if somewhat…wide of the mark."

"Oh I know," Loki smiled heatedly, turning his gaze from the kitchen where Jane had angrily begun stuffing the takeout containers into the rubbish bin, to Thranduil, as languid and relaxed as a cat at rest. Nonetheless the Elf's eyes gleamed wickedly, a slight, suggestive curl to his lip. "Who knew that what really lay beneath those ridiculous robes was, indeed, so skilled?"

"Oh poor Jane. What did she ever do to deserve two such as us?" Thranduil chuckled, making a face as he took a sip of wine.

"She really is beautiful when angered. We must do this more often," his partner in crime suggested.

Abruptly, they realised the angry sounds from the kitchen had ceased, and an uneasy silence ruled. They waited with bated breath as Jane appeared, an incredulous look on her face, matched only by the steadily building temper in her eyes.

"Do you mean to tell me that all…" she gestured between with her hand. "all _**that**_ a few minutes ago…was you two just playing with me?"

Her tone was soft and warning, as the two males realised they'd been discovered and their lady love was not best pleased with them. Thranduil wisely said nothing. Loki was not so wise.

"God of Mischief, love," he shrugged arrogantly.

"I can't believe you just…just….manipulated me like that! God, Loki! I am not a toy!" she yelled at him, "You wanted me angry, now I damn well am!"

Jane took a deep breath, before she felt two strong arms twine around her waist, pulling her back into the seductive embrace of the Elf. His black shirt rustled as he pulled her into him, and she could feel his golden hair against her skin when he'd loosened it from his ponytail earlier. " _Meleth nin_ ," he began, his lips pressing against her cheek with every word. "We apologise if we offended you. It was just a jest, not one meant with malicious intent. You truly do look intoxicatingly lovely when you are angered, Jane."

"Indeed," Loki agreed, rising from his seat to stand before Jane, ensnaring her hand and raising it to his lips. He pressed kiss after lustful kiss on her skin, taking the very tips of her fingers into his mouth and teasing them with his teeth and tongue, until she gasped, meeting his eyes. "We meant no insult, dearest. Name any price, and we will gladly pay it for your forgiveness…"

Jane rolled her eyes, trying to stay angry at their blatant manipulation of her, but failing under the onslaught of their lips on her skin. "Kings…" she muttered to herself, extricating herself from their combined grip with a huff, noticing their smirks. "Fine. You're forgiven, just don't do it again. And don't you dare make me feel so awkward ever again."

"As you wish, dearest," Loki promised, tipping Thranduil a wink as Jane disappeared into the kitchen. The smiles on their faces immediately disappeared when Jane came back into view. Holding a dish towel.

"And you can do the washing up, both of you. Oh, and you're sleeping on the couch. I'm going for a bath before bed. Sweet dreams, you two," she smiled evilly and walked straight past the two stunned males with a distinctly torturing sway in her hips.

"Sometimes, I truly wonder if we succeeded in removing all the Aether from her mind," Loki muttered.

"I heard that!" Jane shouted from the bathroom.

"Come, Loki. Our penance awaits," Thranduil held up the towel like it possessed fangs.

"But it was definitely worth it, was it not?" his companion asked in a whisper, mindful of their lady's sharp ears.

"Oh, absolutely," Thranduil grinned wickedly, as the two disappeared into the kitchen to begin their penance.

They washed all the dishes and tidied the dining room without complaint. They didn't sleep on the couch. Hey, a girl has needs, you know?


	3. Everything Ends

Lokane/Janduil Prompt #3: Everything Ends for jeadamized

 _Prompt: How about a dying Jane but both can't save her?_

 ** _Oh dear…bring on the kleenex. Remember not in chronological order so this isn't the end despite what the title says. These are all I've done so far, so will update as and when the muse strikes._**

* * *

Five thousand years is a long time, even in the life of an Elf. But now, for Thranduil, it seemed a mere blink of an eye. Too short a time, too little, too fast, and he hated that he possessed not the power to slow it down. For the first time he truly comprehended the bitterness of the Gift of Men, even for such long-lived beings as the Aesir, who were once worshipped as Gods by the people of the Nine Realms. But they were not immortal.

Loki's theft of a Golden Apple for Jane had increased her years, giving her youth and strength for many thousands of years, but not even her fiery spirit and indomitable intellect could long prolong the life that was slowly fading away.

He knew what it was to fade. Before Jane, and Loki, he had begun to fade, doomed as he was by his own pride and his vow to take care of the remaining Elves of Middle-Earth, to never see the Undying Lands himself. He had almost begun to fade again when Legolas sailed West, so many long ages ago. Now the world was much changed since the days of old, and while the fastness of the Greenwood had endured, the outside world was not one he wished to contemplate. The Dwarves stayed in their halls, having no contact with the world without their mountain realms, the glory of Numenor finally faded, the kingdoms of Men shattered and broken. And even his people were dwindling, as more went to the shores of the Sea and so passed over it, to Elvenhome.

But not he. No, he had stayed. For a short while, a hundred years of Men, he had lived on the world of Jane's birth, but eventually they had retreated to Middle-Earth as the Apple's longevity took effect, and Jane's beauty endured, while the lives of those mortals she loved withered away, and her association with Loki put her in continual danger. Asgard was no sanctuary, after Loki's usurpation of the throne, and Thranduil had desired to see his son again, his firstborn child, only to learn of Legolas's plans to sail West.

Now his secondborn son sat on the throne of Greenwood, and he stood behind him now, his half-sister at his side, her light, sapphire blue skin gleaming in the dappled sunlight that escaped the net of leaves in the canopy above them. Aeryn had long been a daughter to him, even though she was not of his blood, just as Tirneldir was as a son to Loki. He had long ago ceded the crown and throne of his kin to him, although the son often took the advice of his father. He stood now, in long robes of deep emerald, with his arm around the shoulders of his sister, tall-raven haired and lithe as a deer, her deep brown eyes at odds with the deep blue skin of her Jotunn heritage.

* * *

Jane lay on a bed piled high with coverlets and pillows, her once rich-brown hair thick with silver, her face aged with just the hint of the youth she had once possessed. Her eyes, now closed, he knew were misted and tired, even though her mind was still as sharp as ever. There, the Jane he had fallen in love with still lived, bound by the restrictions of a disease neither Elven nor Aesir leechcraft could heal: old age.

Even Loki showed it now. His once dark hair was threaded with grey, his frame strong still, but his face lined with the many millenia he had lived. He sat with Jane, her head on his lap, his hand stroking through the waves of her hair, unbound from its habitual buns and chignons. The bed was set beneath a gap in the canopy above them, atop the small plateau Jane had discovered when she first came to the Greenwood, where one could stand out on the peaks of the caves where the Elves' halls were built, and so look at the stars. She lay there, now in the warm sun, and now in the twilight as the first stars began to gleam in the velvetine sky.

Thranduil hesitated, barely able to take another step, as he looked on his lovers, both so changed, both fading even as he fought to deny it. He loved where he had not looked to love, first Jane with her fragile mortality then Loki with the darkness that strove always to possess him. She lay there, with Loki's hands in her hair, like a statue or a painting, some echo of a princess of legend in repose, her face still beautiful and luminous to look upon. He remembered the laughing girl dancing in his arms, the sober and refined woman with all her love of the stars and the arts her people called 'science', and the passionate, fiery lover who had refused throughout the aeons to let either of her lovers have the final say.

At that moment, Jane's eyes opened wearily, and a soft smile lit her features. " _Meleth nin_ ," she called, reaching out a hand to him, shaking a little from within the draped silk of her gown. Immediately he went to her, kneeling by her side and taking her hand in his still strong, vital one. Now more than ever, he wished he could lend her his strength, the vigor he had been named for, to both of them. He still felt too full of life to lose either Jane or Loki, and he knew both their ends were nigh. And what then?

A gentle hand on his lips brought him out of his grim reverie, and Jane's knowing eyes twinkled, even faded as they were. "You're thinking too much again," she murmured teasingly, though her gaze was sad. She guessed his train of thought too easily.

"As I recall, that was once your own bane," Thranduil found himself smiling ruefully at her, as her eyes flashed once more. Loki chuckled above them.

"A shared trait of us all, I think," he added. Jane huffed, and both her men smirked at each other. They still had the ability to exasperate her, even now. She coughed, and alarm seized the two men. "Jane, are you well?"

"It's nothing," she muttered once the paroxysm passed. "Just old age. It's been a long time coming."

Thranduil raised her hand, the one enclosed in his own, and kissed it tremblingly. "The last five thousand years have been a great gift, but now it seems the bitter has yet to come," he murmured softly, and felt both his lovers sigh.

"I'm sorry, Thranduil, but I can't hold on any longer," Jane breathed, her voice soft but pained. "I'm old, way too old. There was never going to be any other way for this to end. Maybe we should never-"

"Nay, do not think that I regret this, any of this!" Thranduil cut across her, glancing up at Loki, who nodded. "But now truly do I comprehend the bitterness of the Gifts of Iluvatar. Even five thousand years seems too little a time to have known and loved you, _meleth nin_." _  
_

"You have to be strong, Thranduil…" Jane replied, her voice softer than a whisper. "Take care of Tirneldir and Aeryn, and this mad, old idiot," she glanced above her to Loki, who just growled teasingly. She looked back to Thranduil and smiled, as a tear trailed down her cheek. "Promise me."

"Always and forever, _meleth nin_ ," Thranduil vowed firmly.

"For as long as I have left, dearest Jane," Loki replied, bending his long frame to press a kiss against her forehead, one that lingered and trembled against her skin. None but Thranduil marked it but tears welled in the trickster's eyes, and it was taking all of his strength not to give in to his sorrow. And at least he had a chance of seeing Jane again, one day, when he too passed. As did Aeryn, and even Tirneldir with his Halfelven blood could one day make the choice to forsake his immortality. Thranduil did not. He would be left behind eventually.

Truly the gift of Iluvatar was bittersweet.

Jane's lucidity was once again fading, and weariness dragged at her. He could see it stealing her away from them once more, as Aeryn and Tirneldir rushed to their mother's side. "I'm ok," she breathed. "Just tired. I love you all, so, so much…"

Jane's voice trailed off, as at last sleep took her, and Thranduil pressed a trembling kiss to her hand. Eventually duties called both Aeryn and Tirneldir away, and they left with soft kisses and gentle words to their mother and fathers, knowing full well that they would never see her alive again.

And then it was just Loki and Thranduil alone, with Jane, as she dreamed and slipped ever further towards death. The stars waxed in the sky and the evening breeze was warm. The moon shone brightly, casting a sylvan light over the three below.

No one spoke, but they each wandered in their joined memories, remembering their rivalry, their love for the woman lying between them, their long years of conflict, of happiness, of strife, of joy undimmed and of discovery and rebirth. Loki and Jane had given Thranduil life again, and it terrified him now to think of life without them, the long, empty, dry years spreading into eternity.

Jane faintly stirred as the night marched on, and she pulled weakly at her lovers' hands. "It's cold, come and lie with me," she whispered. It was a tight fit, but the two tall males squeezed onto the bed, cradling Jane between them. Thranduil pressed a gentle kiss to Jane's lips, remembering their first such embrace, and trembling even as he hid his grief from her. Loki did the same, gentle and loving, before threading a hand through Thranduil's hair and pulling him inexorably to his lips.

Jane snuggled between them, her eyes full of the stars and sky above them, and she smiled. "The stars are so beautiful tonight," she sighed, a smile staying on her lips even as her eyes fluttered closed for the last time.

* * *

Thranduil lay there, with his two lovers, and felt his heart break, shattered into oblivion. No breath would now stir from Jane's lips, her voice forever silenced, a great light in the Universe snuffed out. Loki's hands tightened around her, intertwined with Thranduil's, as grief too welled up within him and ripped at his strength. He too was old, and it had only been determination that had kept him alive, refusing to leave Jane or Thranduil until he had to. But he had held on too long, and as Jane's breath left her for the last time, so did Loki's last breaths come in the deeps of the night.

And Thranduil lay there with his two lovers, forever united in eternal sleep, and grief now streamed unchecked down his youthful features. It rose like a black tide over his mind, swallowing it utterly. The tale of Luthien and Beren, and of the King Elessar and Arwen Undomiel, came to mind and in that moment, he wished and prayed with all his might, to do as they had done, and forsake his immortality to follow his two lovers beyond the circles of the World and to whatever fate awaited those of mortal birth.

Down, down, the black tide dragged him and with a shiver, he felt the warmth of his limbs steal away forever, his breath coming short and his heart failing in its rhythm. With a sigh of peace, he realised his prayer was being answered, and he tightened his grip on his lovers with what failing strength he possessed, looking one last time at the stars his people so loved, that Jane had adored, and even Loki had been moved by, and closed his eyes one last time, his mind and soul full of the memory of Jane laughing, with light in her eyes and flowers in her hair, and Loki, tall, strong and dark, always at his side and watching over them all, his lips curled by the amusement of a joke or a trick…

And so Thranduil, son of Oropher, once King of Greenwood the Great and the Wood-Elves, did what only two others of the Eldar race had done in the history of Middle-Earth. He died, truly, and left the circles of the World, never to walk again among Elves or Men before the breaking of the Universe.


End file.
